Chaos Theory
by Sar'Kalu
Summary: AU. 2/3. Humans are just the play things of the Gods, or so they like to believe; tossed into a new world where time runs slower than his own, Harry Potter struggles to remember his past life in a different universe. All the while Dark forces gather for the wizarding world is not so peaceful as the Ministry of Magic would have you believe.


**Title**  
Chaos Theory

**Author**  
Sar'Kalu

**Summary: **_Humans are just the play things of the Gods, or so they like to believe; tossed into a new world where time runs slower than his own, Harry Potter –accused Dark Lord, saviour, convict, Fate's plaything– struggles to remember a past where he was not as he is now. All the while Dark forces gather for the wizarding world is not so peaceful as the Ministry of Magic would have you believe._

**Rating:**Mature, 15+; explicit content –including sexual themes, and explicit language; dark and supernatural themes –including all kinds of abuse, violence, implied time and parallel travel.

**Disclaimer: **  
Harry Potter is the intellectual property of J.K Rowling, Bloomsbury and Warner Bro's; and their various affiliates. All rights reserved and no monetary gain will be utilised for this fiction; this is purely a recreational pursuit.  
This fiction is an Alternate Universe and thus any and all characters may be/will be portrayed outside of 'cannon limits' and their 'traits and personalities' will either be exaggerated or diminished as per artistic license.

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**Chapter One: Last Chance**

_"You ain't nothing to me if you got nothing to say  
I don't know what you got that I can use anyway  
This is your last chance honey"_  
— JET, Last Chance

It was raining, but then, this was England and it seemed it never ceased to rain here. The skies were a dull overcast of grey clouds and darker streaks of black. Dreary. That's what is was,completely and utterly dreary the youth thought to himself, a sneer twisting his thin lips. Messy black hair was knotted into thick strands and his dirty skin was streaked and muddied, the dust that had coated his clothing turning the fabric a rank brown, the true colour lost to memory. The youth swept a hand through his knotted locks and he sighed heavily, he'd been here for a week now, living on the streets with no idea where he was. If he'd had his wand on him when he'd been snatched away, he'd would have been able to apparate or something. Of course, there was also the matter of thinking that his wand was more than slightly useless to a poorly trained twelve year old who had barely half a years study of magic under his belt.

At any rate he was stuck and very lost in the middle of an unknown English city. It wasn't London, it was too small and the accents were all wrong; harsher, stranger and less comprehensible than the London slang he was used to. The boy sniffed the thick air and wrinkled his nose at the sulphurous stench of car emissions and the stink of rotting vegetables. He grunted and slunk closer towards the mouth of the alley, the thin drizzlingly rain falling from the sky in a halo of gold as the street lights lit the individual drops. Bare feet slapped the cement and the boy was once again thankful that he'd fallen asleep clothed, even if he'd unfortunately kicked his boots off in a dismissive gesture towards comfort. A black car shot along the road, the tyres growling along the bitumen and the boy sunk once more into the shadows, his gaunt face cast darkly into pools of shadow, his eyes gleaming briefly an unnatural green.

A couple were walking along the opposite side of the street, the man was dressed in a black suit with a tan overcoat obscuring his shoes, shirt and tie, the woman hung on his arm, her red dress swirling around her knees as she laughed at whatever witticism the man divulged. He eyed the pair irritably, a husband and wife out for a night on the town, what they were doing in what was obviously the rougher side of town was beyond the youth. Knotted hair swung forwards and green eyes burned with hunger as he slipped across the street in a splash of wet puddles and hastily bare-slapping footsteps. The youth crept forwards, his double-jointed fingers flexing as he crept after the pair, his ragged clothing a warning to anyone who could possibly watching.

"... Don't be rude!" The woman laughed, her perfectly coifed hair shone healthily in the street lights, her voice was a soft contralto and the youth paused in a doorway to listen. She was just one of those people. Charismatic. "Julius may be a bit slow, but he's a talented researcher!"

The man huffed in reluctant agreement, his heels clicking on the pavement. He was handsome, from what the youth could see. A strong clean shaven jaw, the long line broken only by his cleft chin and upon his thin, aristocratic nose balanced a pair of round glasses, the lenses flashing in the light. Dark hair cut close to his head swept cleanly into a side part and oiled into a semblance of neatness, the youth suspected that the man's hair was as unruly as his own without the product cloying each heavy strand.

"Perhaps you are right, my dear." The man allowed his voice smoothly annunciated, a small smile upturning the corners of thin lips. "Come, we don't wish to be late."

The youth sneered, eyeing the fancy dress of the pair and with silently careful steps, drew up close behind the cheerful couple. With nimble fingers he delved into the man's pockets, the overcoat barely twitching under his precise movements. Triumphantly, the youth bared his teeth into a grin and swiftly backed away, this time cradling a thin brown wallet on his hands. The youth turned slowly, carefully ensuring that the man and his wife had yet to notice anything, and with shocked surprise, bumped into a bobby on patrol.

There was a pause where the youth went white with shock and the bobby stared at the youth in cold disapproval, the couple still walking as though nothing was wrong. Then like a bullet from a gun, the youth bolted, his long legs stretching out over the pavement, the cursing officer following him swiftly. The couple let out a cry of shock as they finally noticed the people behind them and the man drew a long thin stick from his pocket and sent a bolt of red light from its tip.

The light collided with the gracefully running youth and sent the young man tumbling forcefully into the ground, the wallet flying from his grip as he struggled to remain upright. The policeman gave a triumphant cry as he staggered to a stop by the still struggling youth and with a heavy groan bent down to grab the young mans collar. The youth growled and bucked up, shooting his legs like pistons as he tried to unbalance the taller, heavier man.

"Let me go, mutha fucker!" The youth snarled, his green eyes blazing with hell-fire.

The constable slapped the youth roughly across the back of his head, sending the young man forwards from the force ands is eyes widened in shock. "Shurrup, street rat." The police officer snapped.

The couple approached, the man in front of his cringing wife, wand hidden by his side as he took in the young man who snapped and snarled like a caged lion, all pride and vicious anger. The wife trembled as she took in the bobby's brutally effective treatment of the younger man and let out a soft cry of protest with each hit. The man strode forwards, angrily, the youth too close to his own sons age for him to be comfortable with such violent treatment from a man of the law, irregardless of his magical ability or no'.

"I say, stop that this instant!" The man cried out, snatching the bobby's hand backwards, restraining the man with one hand while the other tried to stow his wand away from prying eyes. "Have you no shame, sir?"

The youth struggled, trying to free himself from the officers firm grip while trying to remain free of the husband's grasping hands. It was a tangle of limbs and epithets that would have made any well-bred lady raise their eyebrows in shock and caustic contempt. As it was the man's wife thinned her lips and with a stern glare, waded into the struggle with a determined air. Not three moments later she returned from it with her husbands ear gripped firmly in one hand and the youths in another while the officer attempted to right himself, tugging his jacket straight and rearranging his helmet upon his closely cropped head.

"Righ' sorry 'bou' tha'." The bobby sighed gustily, fixing a stern glare upon the wriggling youth. Long bony limbs were desperately attempting to free his tightly pinched ear while equally trying not to hurt the woman holding him so firmly. "If yeh'll give me the street brat, ah'll be on me way."

"You'll be no such thing!" The woman snapped angrily, her blue eyes snapping fire. "You nearly killed this boy in your anger, sir. And I cannot in good conscious turn him over to you now."

The angry woman's husband nodded in sour agreement, still rubbing his ear ruefully. He wasn't unused to such treatment and he felt cause for concern that someday soon his ears might be different lengths and need resizing. The youth didn't appear to be stopping in his struggle anytime soon, not even his son, James, was that tenacious.

The policeman huffed, blowing air through his thick russet moustache. "Yeh don' unders'an', Marm." He muttered, eyeing the youth who's struggles had subsided. "'E stole your 'usband's wallet." The bobby gestured to where the thin brown leather lay on the road.

The man gave a cry of relief when he saw it. "My list!" He said gratefully, scooping the wallet up.

"Par'n?" The bobby asked confused.

The man smiled cheerfully. "This isn't my wallet, good sir. It's my contacts list. I'm a specialist for the army." The man explained, turning to the sour faced street rat. "This wouldn't have done you any good, young man." He said, tapping the soft leather on the youths nose.

"Fuck off." The youth growled. A discreet twist had the young man yelping and his hands scrabbling at the woman's fingers that were digging painfully into his ear. "Get off my ear, you evil harridan!"

The man snorted in amusement. "That won't help your case at all young man, take it from a man who's quite familiar with her methods."

The youth subsided once more and scowled darkly. "Fucking adults." He growled.

The man boomed out a laugh and clapped the officer on his shoulder. "There you see, no harm, no foul."

The constable nodded sourly and pulled out a pair of steel cuffs from his belt. "Righ' then, boy, thank the nice folks fer your good 'ealth. If'd been up teh me, yeh'd be locked up good and proper." The policeman grumbled.

The man frowned at the police officer in disapproval. "But he won't be, will he?" The man asked pointedly.

"What do you care?" The youth asked sourly.

The man raised an eyebrow. "You need to return home boy, your parents will be worried sick over you. Going from your clothing you can't take care of yourself, so it's best to do what the police man tells you to do."

"Don't have any parents." The young man said arrogantly, tilting his head back. "Don't want any neither!"

'Of course he didn't', the man sighed to himself, trading a look with his wife who reluctantly relinquished her grasp of the boys ear while the officer tightened his cuffs and pulled him closer to his body. The youth clearly bit back another snarl and subsided, scowling fiercely at the road.

"C'mon then boy, yeh'll spend a nice night in the lock up while we fin' yeh a place to stay." The officer grunted, tugging the youth along with him as they started to vacate the area.

"Fuck you." The boy snarled, struggling once more against his bonds. "I don't need anyone! Let me go!"

The policeman shook his head and towed the boy away and around the corner, muttering darkly to himself all the while. The couple watched in concern, feeling vaguely guilty that they couldn't follow and ensure the boys well being as they were late enough already; assuaging themselves of guilt as no disturbing nor worrying sounds drifted back towards them and they continued their way to the party. The man straightened his overcoat and tie, the silk fabric gleaming in the street light while his wife sighed heavily and patted at her thick black hair and once again took her husbands arm as they walked.

"Charles, did you get the boys name?" The woman asked suddenly, frowning.

"No." The man slid his hazel eyes towards his wife and smiled slightly, she was so beautiful. "Why do you ask?"

The woman sighed. "It's just... I can't help but want to help the poor boy. He was what, thirteen, fourteen?"

"James' age." Charles agreed, his voice dark at the thought. His son was at a boarding school in the north of Scotland and the light of his life. Such a bright, cheerful boy with no worries.

The woman bit her lip in a gesture of worry. "He said he had no parents..." She trailed off and looked up at the man hopefully.

"He also said he didn't need anyone, Dora." Charles replied, his face enigmatic as they walked around a corner and onto a street ablaze with lights and laughter. The house that was their destination was illuminated with glittering and fluttering lights, it's weatherboard exterior painted an elegant off white trimmed in dark blue. The pathway to the door was gravelled and lined with tall hedges.

"Oh look at that, Augusta has done a fabulous job." Dora sighed, leaning her head on her husbands strong arm. "It's such a shame that James is at school."

Charles laughed. "James hates these formal gatherings, like all fourteen year old boys do."

Dora rolled her eyes. "I know." She sighed again. "I wish..." She trailed off again and hid her face. Charles' heart sank, he had hoped that after fourteen years she would be over this, but clearly...

"Come along dear." Charles said jovially, trying to distract his beloved. "It's a party, it's time to smile and make nice with the blood sucking fiends." Dora shot Charles a dark glare and he grinned cheekily. "I think I spy Charlotte and Victoria in the back corner." He pointed roguishly, as he slid his wife's coat from her arms and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek.

Dora rolled her eyes again, lightly smacking Charles' arms. "Behave yourself, and don't offend anyone!" She admonished, sauntering off swaying her hips provocatively.

Charles smiled, sliding his tan overcoat from his shoulders watching his wife with admiring eyes. Dora looked absolutely gorgeous, her dark red wine coloured dress swirling around her knees as she moved about gracefully and greeted their hosts with an arched smile and radiant eyes. His own classically cut dark suit reminiscent of the thirties hugged his lean, compact form and made him appear to be taller than he truly was.

"Charlus!" A robust voice greeted the man.

Charles smiled at his friend and embraced the man with pleasure. "Thomas!"

Thomas smiled elegantly as he stepped back, holding his dearest and oldest friend at arms length, taking in Charles' suit and general health. Charles did the same, noting the dark blue robes that had been tossed over a light grey suit and navy silk tie. Thomas looked healthy and happy, undoubtably owing to his eldest's upcoming graduation.

"You look well, my friend." Thomas said finally, relaxing in relief and releasing Charles' shoulders. "Come over here and tell me all about the Ministry's latest blunders!" Thomas chortled, grinning cheerfully.

Charles laughed and shook his head. "Surely the newest Department Head could tell me all about those, Thomas!" Charles grinned.

Thomas gaped in shock. "How the bloody hell do you know about that?" He asked.

"Thomas Bones!" A shrill voice barked. "Mind your language young man!"

A small woman with fiery red hair and blue eyes strode over to the chatting men, her expression furious. She wore a light green dress that complimented her complexion well and had a dark green wrap around her thin shoulders.

"Amelia!" Thomas greeted the woman cheerfully, bending over her hand and brushing a kiss to her hand. "How are you, my darling?"

Amelia was not impressed. "Don't you 'darling' me, Thomas Bones. If I had half your presumptuousness I would be labelled as a scarlet woman."

Thomas affected shock at Amelia's words before dissolving into hysterical laughter. "You sound like Betsy, Amy." He said finally, dodging the hex that was flung his way for his trouble.

Amelia sniffed darkly and then turned to Charles, who tried to appear unaffected by the steely gaze directed at him. "And you, Charlus Potter, you're no better than he is!" Amelia sniffed again and thinned her lips further. "Frankly I have no idea how Dorea and Catherine out up with you two. You haven't changed since your Hogwarts years."

Thomas wiped away a reminiscent tear and smiled deeply, his eyes crinkling with good humour. "Do you remember, Charles?" He asked, his voice tight from restrained laughter. "Transfiguring everything in Professor Dumbledore's office into lemon drops?"

Charles laughed heartily. "That I do!" He agreed.

Amelia scowled. "Oh, you two!" She huffed, stomping her foot.

"We didn't get in trouble until Professor Dumbledore stood up several days later at breakfast and said he'd like to awards he perpetrators points for the excellent wand work." Charles added.

"You didn't?" Amelia asked in shock, forgetting her disapproval in light of juicy gossip.

"We really did." Thomas agreed. "It was very Slytherin of the Professor."

"And as I remember, I did award you boys points, after taking double the amount in punishment and assigning you both detention for two weeks." An amused voice drifted over the gathering.

Charles and Thomas yelped in shock, while Amelia tried not to appear surprised. A tall elderly gentleman with twinkling blue eyes stepped up from behind Amelia, as if from thin air. The gentleman's half-moon spectacles flashed gently in the firelight of a nearby torch and his mostly silver hair shone brightly, he smiled genially around the trio pleasantly, evidently pleased to see them.

"How do you do that?" Charles demanded.

Thomas snorted. "He's Albus Dumbledore, Charlie, old boy."

Charles grumbled slightly.

Albus hummed lightly in amusement and rocked on his heels, his vibrant purple robes shone with silver moons that winked obnoxiously as he moved.

"How are you, sir?" Thomas finally greeted the older man, still sour about being snuck up on.

"Quite well, Thomas, I believe congratulations are in order for your new position as Department Head." Albus said cheerfully, his eyes twinkling as he shot a curious look at Charles.

"How do you all know this?" Thomas demanded. "First Charles and now you Professor!"

Amelia sighed and sent Thomas a commiserating glance. "It's a secret, Thomas, and so, naturally, everyone knows."

Albus smiled genially, his silver beard twitching with the movement. He'd have to remember that one.

Thomas sighed and shook his head. "I should have known."

Charles nodded in agreement.

Amelia brightened slightly and politely excused herself, making her way over to a short wizard with wispy white hair and a cheerful demeanour.

"Isn't that Professor Tofty?" Thomas asked incredulously. "How does Augusta know him?"

Albus smiled slightly. "Simon and Augusta were quite close during their years at Hogwarts. I believe they even dated for a while." He said as though the details were completely coincidental for him. Which, considering who he was, probably were for the ageing professor.

Charles' gaze drifted over to where Dora and Elizabeth McKinnon laughed with their hostess Augusta Longbottom, the trio were standing by the spiral staircase, the polished banisters gleaming in the flickering light of the chandeliers. In a corner opposite them Catherine Bones, Thomas' beloved wife, stood with her acquaintance Diana Yates, an over enthusiastic charms specialist who had trapped the irreverent charms mistress flat against the wall. Thomas followed Charles' gaze and quickly excused himself to rescue his wife, her thankful eyes following him across the dance floor as he approached. Charles turned to Albus and weighed the older man up briefly, the Headmaster had been his transfiguration professor at Hogwarts and was well known for being a 'muggle-lover' and a man who believed in second chances.

"On our way here," Charles said hesitantly, drawing the brilliant blue gaze of the ageing Headmaster. "On our way here, Dora and I were subject to a pick pocketing..." He trailed off, uncertain of the reception of his tale. Albus raised his white brows in surprise, it wasn't often that the Head Auror was caught off guard. Even on the way to a party. "The boy, only about thirteen years old, was..." Charles bit his lip and let his eyes slide from the knowing blue ones of Albus.

"What are you trying to tell me, Charlus?" Albus asked, his voice grave as he spoke.

Charles swallowed thickly and snatched up a flute of champagne. "The boy, the one who tried to pick pocket me, he was magical."

Albus froze in shock. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that. Magical children rarely ended up in the muggle system as foster children or orphans, the war between Grindlewald and Dumbledore had been enlightening for many of the more... hidebound of wizards and as a result the numbers of orphans declined dramatically. The most notable was the Lestrange adoption of young Tom Riddle, a magical prodigy who had turned out to be the half-blood descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Thomas Riddle was now known as The Lord of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Slytherin, had recently been elected to the position of Minister for Magic and was the most vocal advocate of this change despite Albus' reservations.

"A run away?" Albus asked, clearly hoping for a positive answer.

Charles shook his head wordlessly, unable to voice Albus' dreaded fear. It was bad enough that Albus' light was waning in the revolution that was Lord Slytherin's political coup. But for a magical orphan to appear now, as a pick pocket no less, during a time where everyone was questioning the need for such change, would result in the status quo being flip sided and the 'Light' sided party turned out upon its ear in the Wizengamot.

"The boy must be found, Charles." Albus stated firmly, his wizened voice deep in his determination.

Charles' eyebrows rose. "And do what with the little hellion?" He asked sourly. He certainly hoped that Albus' wasn't suggesting what he thought he was. He might not enjoy the idea of a wizarding child in the muggle system, but he certainly wasn't willingly going to suggest that he bring the boy up.

"Adopt him of course. Send him to Hogwarts, it's not like he needs to be a part of your family, Charles." Albus replied cooly, brooking no refusal. Albus understood Charlus Potter's reservations, after all, an adopted son might be able, with enough political support, to challenge the rightful heirs claim to the Potter lordship. Not that Albus would allow the boy to do that to young James, but still, it was a valid enough fear.

Charles shook his head in denial. He might have disapproved of the muggle policemans methods, he might even have sympathised with the boys plight; but to take in an unknown child on a whim? Charles couldn't see any possible benefits to that. Not when it might end up with James losing an inheritance battle.

"Charlus." Albus said with decisiveness.

Charles' shoulders sunk, he knew when he'd lost an argument. This was it. "Yes, Albus." Charles replied heavily, his hazel eyes landing on Dora's slim form. At least his wife would be happy, she had seemed so down about the boy's predicament, but to take in an orphan with no name and no prospects... It was a black thought indeed. Albus would owe him greatly for this and the older man knew it. However, perhaps with the right push the boy, whatever his name, could end up being useful in time.

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**A/N:**

_Please let me know if you, the Reader, find any mistakes, be they grammatical or otherwise to change. This story is un-beta'ed so there will be a few mistakes; in addition, if you are interested in Beta'ing this, or any other story of mine, please PM me. Kind regards, Sar'Kalu._


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